Chapter 10 #2
“It looked like you needed the better rest.” He gives this playful little shrug like it had been obvious.
I let out a quiet laugh and slink deeper into the kitchen, leaning against the cool counter beside him. “Still, you didn’t have to take the couch.”
“You’re right. I didn’t have to,” he agrees, plating bacon, eggs, and toast with casual elegance. “But I wanted you to be comfortable.” He presses the warm plate into my hands.
“I, um…” I stare down at the perfect, simple breakfast. “How do I put this? I don’t exactly remember falling asleep.”
“That’s okay,” he says gently. He turned to face me fully, his hip resting against the counter. He took a sip from a mug and then holds another out for me. “We danced. Talked. Got very drunk, well, you perhaps a bit more than I.”
“Well, you did order the entire bottle for us.” I laugh.
He raises an eyebrow. “And I didn’t know where you were staying. Since, according to you, I may be a ‘psycho.’” He winked, and I feel my face flood with heat.
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Mhm,” he hums into his mug. “I have milk and sugar for your coffee, if you want it.”
“No, thanks. Black is fine.” I move to the table and sit down. “But why not just let me go back to the hotel with Riley and Marc?”
Gregg sits beside me and spreads orange marmalade on toast with ease. “Well, I don’t think Marc was high on my priority. And I don’t recall seeing him again after we went to the dance floor.”
“Interesting,” I muse. “I’m sure I’ll get an earful over the next few days.”
“And Riley? She excused herself with Julian back to his flat about an hour before we called a cab.”
“She did?!” I choke and laugh at the same time, nearly inhaling a piece of egg.
He nods, laughing. “She did. And she looked very proud of herself, too.”
“I’m not surprised. I could tell she liked Julian. She’ll probably berate me about my sleepover here.”
“Well, you fell asleep in the taxi, and I got you upstairs with no dramatics,” he explains after finishing a bite of toast.
I exhale slowly. “So we didn’t…?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, you were in no position to. I was able to get you changed, into bed, and I may have watched you snore for about five minutes before going downstairs.”
My face goes hot, and I laugh, both embarrassed and relieved. “Thanks,” I murmur, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “Not even a kiss?”
“Nope. Not even a kiss. It wouldn’t have been right.”
The words hang soft, settling into me.
“Did you have fun last night?” I ask quietly.
“Me?” He raises a brow. “I had a lot of fun, actually. Did you?”
I hesitate only a moment before deciding to stop guarding myself. I nod and smile. “Yeah. I did.”
Warm and inviting sunlight filters through the tall hedges as a gentle breeze drifts across the yard. We sit in a quiet sort of companionship, sipping coffee between slow bites of eggs and bacon, when Gregg sets his fork down and leaned forward slightly in his chair.
“I didn’t want to say anything last night,” he begins carefully, “but you mentioned your late fiancé.”
I freeze, my coffee mug suspended halfway between the table and my lips.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he adds gently. “Not if you’re not ready. I just… I think I’ve started to put some pieces together. Like yesterday at tea, when I told you about Lochaven and asked if you had anywhere like that. Hilton Head. The way you got quiet.”
I set my mug down and let out a long breath through my nose, my eyes drifting toward the yard.
“You’re not wrong,” I say softly, my voice even. “His name was, well is, Drew. He was a photographer. We met at a gallery showing some of his work, and I fell. Like hard.”
Gregg only nods, listening.
“He had this… like infectious zest for life and adventure. He made everything feel brighter without even trying. I was burning out from flying, and I think he saw that before I did. He made me feel seen and showed me how to recharge. He grew up near Hilton Head, and that’s where he asked me to marry him. Right on the beach.”
Silence settles between us, but Gregg doesn’t press.
“Then a year ago, he got this opportunity to shoot for National Geographic in French Polynesia. The only reason I didn’t go with him was because I was sick, but I talked him into taking another flight than the one he was booked on because he’d get a Business Class upgrade…”
I pause. A beat of stillness.
“But he never made it. The plane exploded over the Pacific, and all of a sudden, he was just… gone. And I was alone.”
Gregg’s brows furrow, pain flicking across his face. “Cameron, I’m so sorry. I remember when that crash happened…”
“Thanks.” My voice barely a whisper, I’m still staring out toward the hedges.
“For most of this past year, I couldn’t even say his name without breaking down.
I think about the part of me that died, too.
Like something in me stopped wanting anything after that.
Riley moved in with me, and she’s been… incredible.
So supportive. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. ”
I finally meet Gregg’s eyes. “I thought that it would be easier to hold on to an idea of him than risk loss again.”
“That’s a very heavy thing to carry.” Gregg’s voice was quiet.
“It is,” I admit, reaching for Gregg’s hand, taking a breath as I close my fingers around his. “But then I literally walk into you, and you’re in my life for a matter of hours, and it feels crazy that I haven’t been able to shake the idea of you.”
Gregg gives me this small, gentle smile and squeezes my hand back, covering it with his other.
“And forgive me if I’ve misread anything,” I continue, looking down because the truth felt too big to hold eye contact for. “But being with you last night, laughing and dancing, I don’t know, it felt good. It felt freeing.”
Gregg reaches up slowly and places his hand against my cheek. There’s something careful in the way he does it, like he’s bracing himself as much as he was touching me, but he lets out a soft laugh mixed with a sigh, a smile spreading across his mouth.
“Cameron,” he says quietly, “you’ve misread nothing.”
I looked up at him then.
“Thank you for sharing,” he adds, “but I want you to know you don’t owe me anything. Not your story, not your heart, not your time. But I’ll gladly take whatever pieces you’re willing to give.”
Something in me loosens, and I feel myself smile, small and shy, but real. “I want to try.”
“That’s all I could ask.”
I lean in slowly, testing the moment to see if it could hold my weight. Gregg doesn’t move, his green eyes just watch me, steady and sure, like he’d known this was coming and has been waiting for me to catch up.
So I kiss him. Soft at first, carefully, almost unsure.
Gregg kisses me back.
Whatever was left between us dissolves instantly.
Our mouths move together gently, like we are finally speaking a language we’ve been afraid to try.
My hand slides up to his jaw, fingertips brushing his stubble.
His palm stays warm against my cheek, anchoring me, urging me just a little closer.
It doesn’t last long. But damn, it’s enough.
When we finally pull apart, our foreheads press close. My eyes stay closed for a beat as I let out a slow breath, accepting the truth of the moment.
“That felt…” Gregg murmurs, his voice low, a little rough.
I open my eyes. “Right.”
The relieved smile he gives me makes something warm bloom in my chest. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It really did.”